Inevitability
by WildWelshWitch
Summary: Kevin Mask comes to realise the inevitable, i.e that sooner or later, you have to let your Significant Other meet your family, no matter how much you don't want them to. Sequel to 'Face the Music and Dance'
1. Where I Lay My Head is Home

Autumn in London is likely something that poets have waxed lyrical about, what with the leaves changing colour and fruit coming into bloom elsewhere in the country. However, for those just leaving Goodenough College, the cold air and grey skies promising rain was enough to make the students and staff alike wrap up in coats, scarves and hats, umbrellas of all kinds tucked into satchels, under arms or hand bags.

The more courageous students stood in small groups, discussing evening plans – mostly for the pub, a pizza place, or to get together and work on assignments or combinations thereof as they braved the cold weather.

Theresa Chappen, wrapped up in a long, purple, all-natural-fibres coat, a knitted rainbow scarf tied loosely around her neck and a blue and white Tibetan-hat pulled down over her short blond hair, offered a silent prayer of thanks to whichever deity happened to be listening as her mobile phone gently sang out Sonata for Two Pianos – there was an argument going on in her current group of friends which had stemmed from 'should we get an Indian tonight?' to which one had replied haughtily that she didn't eat food that 'looked like it's been regurgitated', the wrong thing to say when in mixed company (but no one had ever credited Champagne Brie Jenkins, who'd joined late in the term and for some reason had attached herself to Theresa's group of friends, with many brain cells in her peroxided head)

"Hello?" she answered, with a wave at her still arguing group as she started to walk to the college gates, "Yes, I'm outside," she said the person on the other side of the phone, "Brace myself? Why do I need to brace myself?"

A moment later, all her friends would be able to say was that one second she was there, next there was a blur and she was gone.

* * *

"There's easier ways of picking me up from college," Theresa giggled from her position in Kevin's arms, where he was holding her Bridal-Style.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" he asked, almost too innocently as he put her down on a wooden bench before sitting down beside her

"Course I am," she smiled, setting both her book bag and personal-belongings-bag down at her feet, "You've been in Japan for the last three months."

"Did you miss me?" he tilted his head and was probably giving her a look, but it was hard to tell under the iron mask he wore

"No, not at all," Theresa said, dryly, "in fact, I can't wait for you to leave for another three months"

"Sorry," he told her, not sounding apologetic at all, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders "I'm afraid you're stuck with me until the IWF say otherwise"

"Oh damn, just when I'm used to having a bed all to myself. You're so horrible to me, Kevin" but she cuddled up against his side, managing to wrap an arm around his waist, "But I'm glad you're home now"

"Were you miserable without me?" he was, somewhere deep in his heart, hoping she'd say yes, she had been. But then again, that was the kind of sappy thing he normally avoided and the kind of thing Theresa would never say, one of the reasons he loved her was the lack of clichéd lines.

"Not miserable," she shook her head slowly, the flaps of her hat fluttering slightly with the movement, "Lonely in a way though, yes. I did get used to having you around and stealing most of my covers at night, Mask"

He grinned somewhat smugly under his mask, "I knew you missed me" and had to resist the urge to rest his cheek against the top of her head, if only because Theresa found having a heavy iron mask resting on top of her head horribly uncomfortable, and he found no comfort in the gesture with out his skin actually making contact with her hair.

"Course I did," she answered with a small smile.

Somewhere above them, a crow cawed in the bare branches of the tree and they simply sat, listening to the traffic, a constant thing in London, going past. It was comfortable and familiar and felt, to Kevin, almost as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

It was nice just to be able to switch off after being in 'work' mode for the last three months.

"Are you hungry?" Theresa asked finally, deigning to raise her head from Kevin's shoulder to look at him.

"It is possible," he admitted, just before his stomach gurgled

"Were you starving yourself again?"

"…No?" really, there wasn't much point in lying to her, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

Theresa sighed in a long-suffering way, getting to her feet and grabbing one on his hands, tugging it as indication he should stand up too, "Come on, it's Friday, we'll go to Eppie's and get some fish and chips"

"I love it when you talk in such a dirty way" he replied standing up

"Was that a joke, Mr Mask?"

"I believe it was, Miss Chappen"

They shared a short laugh and began to walk away from the park. So busy chatting and laughing gently between them, too concerned with the world that consisted of just the two of them holding hands tightly, that neither of them noticed a figure on the path opposite pause to stare and watch them in interest and surprise.

Fading light glinted off a heavy iron mask as he watched the two vanish out of the gates onto the street outside.

TBC

* * *

_**Kate:**__ Finally found time to start on a sequel. A few people asked for it so I thought I'd be nice and deliver it. This has been sitting, incomplete, in my word files for…two months, maybe? And this is only the first chapter. I'm also sure you've worked out who the bloke at the end was. I don't do 'subtle'._

_**Kevin:**__ No! I refuse to participate! No more digging into my personal life!_

_**Kate:**__ Oh come on, it's not like I'm a trashy tabloid reporter. _

_**Kevin**__: Oh really?_

_**Kate**__: You don't see me digging through your rubbish, do you? And anyway, it's only fair Theresa meets your family. You've met hers._

_**Kevin**__: She LIVES with her grandfather! It was unavoidable!_

_**Kate**__: Well, I don't care what you say, I writing more of this anyway so *__**phbt!***_

_**Author's Notes: **__ Also, I'm not joking with the name of Theresa's college. There really is a place called 'Goodenough College' in London. Google it if you don't believe me. The only thing I made up is that they do a teaching course._


	2. The Things I Do For You

_**Mac:**__ Time for an intergalactic wrestling update! Kevin Mask and his girlfriend have been spotted at the park by a certain someone! Who is this masked man and what are his intentions towards the couple?_

_**Doc:**__ Well Mac, everyone's just gonna have to read on to find out! But it's not like the author didn't leave a lot of clues hanging around._

_**Mac:**__ So, author, what've you got planned for this chapter?_

_**Author:**__ I want to know how you two got in here, why you're doing my author notes…and why you're eating my crisps_

_

* * *

_

Robin Mask sank gratefully into a heavily padded leather chair, beside the fire of his personal library, with a sigh of relief. Despite his protestations to the contrary, he couldn't deny that age was catching up with him and his bones, many of them having been previously broken or at least fractured in long past matches, ached considerably.

Having poured himself some Lady Grey, he considered the scene he'd witnessed at the park.

Namely, the sight of his son in the company of, what he assumed was, a young woman (it may have been a young man, it was becoming very hard to tell in these days of androgynous clothing, but for the sake of argument he would think 'young woman'). More to the point, Kevin had seemed relaxed and happy in her company, insofar as one could tell due to the mask, even to the point of laughing – a sound Robin hadn't heard from his son since Kevin was a very young child, little more than a stumbling infant.

He winced slightly at the memory of how he had, inadvertently, been responsible for killing that sound.

OK, maybe not so inadvertently, if he was honest, but at the time he thought it the best route to take. His father had always insisted on strict rules and schooling for children, this being the way that Robin himself had been raised, and now he began to wonder if he had taken that a step too far.

But really, what was to wonder?

He HAD gone a step too far, more than a step, most likely an entire flight of stairs too far, evidenced by Kevin's running away and rebellion of joining the dMp. Perhaps if Kevin had siblings growing up none of that have come about?

Alice had always wanted a large family, he recalled. (_"This place should so be full of children's laughter that the sound of it echos even when they're grown up"_)

It was during these times of quiet, that he wondered what Alice would say if she were here to witness everything that had happened (though part of him was glad she had never seen their son join the forces of evil, brief though it was)

…he missed her.

This thought found him turning to look at a small, framed photograph situated on the table beside his chair. It was the only photograph of Alice he'd kept from being put into storage in the attic with the rest. For years now it had lain in the drawer beside his bed, untouched, only in the last year or so had be taken it out and put it in its current position.

It was a cheap photo, barely four inches high, the sort of novelty photo of Blackpool Beach photo booth fame. It was slightly faded and, at some point, it had been bent at a corner before being placed in the safety of the frame. It was, truth be told, not something anyone would believe that Sir Robin Mask (GBE) owned. Yet there it was, in pride of place on the table no less, and it was, to him, the most precious item he owned; he and Alice hadn't been courting for very long when this photo had been taken, he remembered, and it showed Alice as he always remembered her: vibrant, alive and brimming with a quiet inner strength.

What would she have wanted him to do now?

Well, firstly she probably would have wanted him to be on better terms with Kevin, even if they weren't so openly hostile to each other now.

Mostly, though, she would probably want him to meet Kevin's young lady-friend.

Robin took a drink of his tea and considered this option carefully.

Before he extended an invitation, it would probably be wise to find out as much as he could about the girl, forewarned was forearmed. And, if it turned out that she was only with Kevin for his fame, then she could be dealt with accordingly.

First, some recon was in order

Then, once he'd found out as much as he could, perhaps, just perhaps, he could extend an invitation for tea.

He wondered if she knew anything about tea…

…probably not.

She probably drank it instant from the teabag. Robin shuddered at the thought, but then turned his thoughts to the best way of information gathering

Naturally the best place to start would be Kevin's team mates…

* * *

Not a million miles away, though it may as well have been for the change in the atmosphere, Theresa suddenly shivered, despite the warmth from being cuddled against Kevin's side on the sofa of her grandfather's house.

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine. Just…felt cold for a minute" so saying she cuddled closer, warding off the apparent chill.

Interrupting the monotonous tone of the newsreader came the phone and James (Theresa's grandfather) got up to answer it before either of the teenagers could move

He was gone for less than a second before re-entering the room with a simple: "Theresa, phone for you"

"Who is it?" she asked, getting up reluctantly, from her place

"It's Frankie"

"Frankie? Really?"

Kevin raised an eyebrow as his girlfriend began to bounce up and down excitedly on the balls of her feet, as if she'd been given some amazing gift,

"I didn't think he'd phone for another week or so!"

"Go. Now," James gave her a small push towards the hallway, "he wants to ask you something"

"I'm going, I'm going" and she vanished

"Who's Frankie?" Kevin asked after a few seconds, it was rude to eavesdrop on someone whilst they were on the phone

"You don't know?" James asked, sitting back down in an armchair, then slapped a palm against his forehead, "Oh! I forgot, you've been away whenever he's around, you haven't met him."

"So, who is he?"

"Just an old friend of Theresa's mother. He used to look after her whilst Melody was in chemo. He checks in on her whenever he's in the country"

"Where is he the rest of the time?"

"He travels a lot with his job" the older man shrugged nonchalantly, "Maybe you'll get to meet him this time"

At just that moment, Theresa came back, looking mildly worried

"That silly twit's broken his ankle. Wanted to know if I'd pick him up from the airport on Sunday" though her tone was annoyed, her expression was fond.

"When is this 'Frankie' arriving?" Kevin asked

"5am," she answered, sitting back down and resuming her earlier position of cuddled against him.

"I could join you, if you wished"

Silence and Theresa stiffened against him slightly

"Theresa?"

"…if you really want to." She said finally, biting her lip almost nervously, "I…suppose you can come with me" she must have looked to her grandfather because James Chappen nodded slowly in approval.

Kevin wondered at Theresa's sudden change in attitude, who was Frankie that she didn't want Kevin to meet him?

Well, he'd find out on Sunday. It was fortunate that he wasn't a stranger to early mornings.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ Everyone has a sentimental side to them, I quite enjoyed writing Robin's. The private part of his life is pretty under-written._

_Also, do you know how long I've been waiting to introduce Frankie into a story?_

_Way too long!_

_**Kevin**__: Am I going to dislike meeting him? And Theresa meeting my father? That is NOT going to happen. Ever. If I have something to say on the matter_

_**Author:**__ Duly noted, but if I tell you any more, it'll ruin the surprise._


	3. Hey Frankie

_**Mac:**__ Time for an Intergalactic Wrestling Update!_

_Last time Kevin Mask volunteered to accompany Theresa to the airport to collect someone known only as 'Frankie'. _

_Who is this Fabulous Flying Frankie? What does he do? And what will happen when he meets Kevin? Doc, your thoughts?_

_**Doc:**__ Well, Mac, the author seems to have everything planned out for this chapter after a few false starts but she seems to have bounced back quite well_

_**Author:**__ …how do you two keep getting in here?__** I**__ narrate the author's notes in this fiction! Out!_

_

* * *

_

It has to be noted that the airport, ANY airport, is the most boring place in existence.

It is especially boring when the majority of the shops contained therein are shut and the place selling hot beverages coffee machine is on the blink so there's no caffeine hit and you have to rely on the 'accidentally on purpose' uncomfortable chairs to keep you awake and ensure you don't miss either your flight or that of the person you're supposed to be picking up.

Especially when said flight is delayed by three quarters of an hour at the least

Theresa rubbed her eyes for the fiftieth time in as many minutes and gave a small sigh.

"Bored, are we?" Kevin asked, mussing her hair. (He was, for once, maskless in public because Theresa had really, really insisted that she didn't want to have to fight of Paparazzi at a stupid hour and she'd pointed out that unless he was wearing his mask no one actually knew him as Kevin Mask because no one except her and Gramps and probably his parents had ever seen him without it.)

"It's too early in the morning for it to be early in the morning," she answered, half-heartedly pushing his hand away, but only moving it down enough so that his arm was draped loosely across her shoulders, "I'm going back to sleep. You can be my teddy bear" she mumbled, turning slightly to both hug onto his arm and hide her face from the light in it.

"How can you sleep _here_?" he wanted to know, he had trouble sleeping anywhere but in a bed of at least some description (specifically, he liked to sleep in Theresa's bed; preferably with Theresa in his arms and, truthfully, he first few nights away in Japan were rapidly becoming the most tiresome because he wasn't so used to sleeping alone anymore. Though he hadn't divulged that piece of information to her yet.)

"Kevin," she looked up slightly, "I have slept in more hospital corridors, backs of cars and waiting rooms than should be possible for an eighteen year old. I once fell asleep standing up, against a wall, because my mum's chemo session took longer than she thought it would. I can sleep _anywhere_" so saying she settled back down in the uncomfortable chair, "wake me up when the announcements sound please?" and with that she shut her eyes and, seemingly, went to sleep in a matter of seconds.

This left Kevin with little to do but attempt to look out of the windows, but it was still pitch black and, if he wasn't mistaken, starting to rain, so he contented himself with alternating between watching the various screens signalling when such-and-such flight would arrive and looking at Theresa.

He found it amazing how much but, at the same time, how little he still knew about her.

For instance, he'd once enquired why she didn't track down her father, and had been met by an uncharacteristic cold silence, and an even frostier: "He knows where I live."

She'd refused to say anything more on the subject and it had taken a ride on his motorbike and 99 ice-cream dripping with that odd raspberry sauce available only to ice-cream vendors to get her to smile again.

And now this, being here at the airport picking up someone know only as 'Frankie' who was supposedly an old friend of Theresa's mother who still visited but only when Kevin was away, it seemed she didn't want him to know this person at all. He had tried to get more information from her grandfather, but the old man had been almost as tight lipped as Theresa, simply telling him that he would find out when the time came but that Kevin had no need to worry at all, that he'd be pleasantly surprised…hopefully.

"_This is announcement. The 5.45am flight from Australia will be arriving shortly at Gate 5."_

He supposed he should wake her now…

* * *

Somewhere at 50,000 feet and soon-to-be dropping, Frankie looked out at the view offered from the small window of his airplane seat, anything than at the hideous sight within the vehicle itself.

This was his first time flying first class and, if he had his own way, it would be the last. But they had insisted back in Australia and he had been much too groggy from the painkillers to put up a proper objection.

Still, at least it wouldn't be much longer and he could be back on the ground and, if he was lucky, he and Theresa could get bacon sandwiches on the way back to his flat…was anywhere open at this time on a Sunday?

He missed his flat…and he hoped his brother had remembered to look after his beloved Viola

"_Attention to all passengers. We are approaching London Heathrow and will soon begin our descent. If you would all please fasten your seatbelts and kindly remain in your seats until we have come to a complete stop."_

Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd had enough of this horrible 'I'm _**SO**_ superior' atmosphere First Class had.

He cast a longing glance back towards the curtain that separated the two halves of the airplane.

Sometimes he longed for the days when he was still plain old Frankie who worked down Camden Market on the weekends selling bits of old tat to people looking for a bargain and hoping to find treasure.

Not that he wasn't grateful for his success, Heaven knew, and every thing it brought with it but at heart, Frankie was still a man of simple pleasures and style.

No matter what anyone else said, he knew the truth: he was just someone who'd had an incredibly lucky break and the day that he let it go to his head, if he ever looked in the mirror and saw someone who wasn't Frankie, then it would be time to admit defeat and walk away.

He vaguely felt his ears pop as the plane came back down to earth, felt the juddering as it hit the ground and heard the screech of tires as it slowed.

The only thing holding him back from jumping up and down gleefully when they were finally allowed to leave the bloody thing was his broken ankle.

As it was, he allowed the stewardess to hand him his crutches (he'd be old and grey without a tooth in his head before he'd let someone push him in a wheelchair) and carefully made his way down to the airport, humming happily to himself, glad to be back on British soil for as long as it took his ankle to heal.

He thought about all the things he could do whilst he was home…for one thing he could have a bacon sandwich without it making the newspapers in one form or another.

Oh, and even better than that, his smile broadened as he thought about his mother's homemade from scratch curries, (exactly how she managed to produce such huge meals from very few ingredients was something she hadn't yet passed on) she'd been bemoaning how little she saw him and that he was looking too skinny recently and she'd threatened to make a huge meal the next time she saw him.

Damn, he hadn't phoned her!

Oh well, he'd do that when he got home, when it was less likely she'd have a coronary when he told her he was hurt.

Now he just had to find Theresa (he hoped she liked the present he'd bought her) and get back to his flat.

Bacon sandwiches all around! Yes!

…followed by a nice long oblivion in his own bed.

* * *

"What, exactly, sort of person am I supposed to be looking for?" Kevin asked, it had been 15 minutes since the plane had landed. Thankfully, the early hour meant that there weren't many people around; most people arriving this early opted to either catch a taxi or a bus to the nearest hotel rather than have someone pick them up

"I'll tell you when I see him" Theresa replied, "just promise me you won't freak out"

"I do not 'freak out'"

"Just promise?"

"Very well, I promise. Why all the subterfuge?"

"You'll find out," she yawned, covering her mouth as she did, and leaned against him, "you'll like Frankie though"

Before he could try to get any more information from her, she stood up and waved her arm above her head, clearly trying to catch someone's attention.

Said someone was carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder (the flight tag clearly visible) and wearing a baseball cap down low over their face, a loose green shirt with "I'm good in bed. I can sleep for days!' written across the front, black shorts and soft shoes, or shoe rather, as the left foot was wrapped tightly in bandages, and they were leaning on a set of crutches.

And they were coming towards them

"Frankie!" Theresa greeted enthusiastically

"Hello there, my beauty!" a voice that was somehow familiar spoke, (Kevin tried to think where he'd heard it before now,) and 'Frankie' let go of a crutch long enough to drape an arm around Theresa and pull her into a hug before letting go, "you're looking stunning in the early morning gloom!"

"Liar"

"And who's this?" Frankie now turned his attention to Kevin…who blinked as the last piece of the jigsaw of recognition slid into place. He'd seen Frankie before

On stage

Not in the wrestling ring but actually on stage.

"Cat got your tongue, mate?" Frankie continued, giving Kevin the open and friendly smile seen in a dozen music posters, before holding out his hand, "I'll guess you're Kevin then, my little beauty's beloved"

"Yes…yes, that's…" he began, for once at a loss for words, "that's me. It's…an honour to meet you."

"Come on, we'll save the introductions for when we're in the van," Theresa interrupted, linking arms with Kevin and giving him a discreet poke in the side, "it's not too far"

"Terrific!" Frankie beamed, "and you two make a fabulous couple, my beauty"

"Thank you" Kevin replied, trying to regain his calm.

He honestly couldn't believe it.

Here in front of him, chatting away amiably was none other than Frankie Platinum, frontman of the internationally known, quintessentially British band, _**REGINA**_

In other words, the only band that Kevin followed even semi-religiously and owned more than one CD of their music (an achievement in and of itself as, before he met Theresa, he more or less lived out of a backpack)

"You know Frankie Platinum!" he whispered to her

"No, I don't"

"But that's Frankie Platinum!" he knew he sounded like and excited child but couldn't help it

"That's Frankie Smith, Kevin," Theresa answered gently, giving his hand a slight squeeze, "Frankie Platinum only lives on stage" her expression softened and she smiled playfully, "if it really means a lot to you, you can ask Frankie for his autograph later, OK? And I'll explain everything on the way to his flat."

"You know where he lives?" he asked, unable to stop himself, but not even the newspapers knew where Frankie Platinum called home, an achievement in and of itself, and realistically he knew Theresa must know or she wouldn't have agreed to drop him off there.

"Naturally"

It seemed to take no time at all before the three of them were safely enconsed in the relative comfort of the van; Theresa driving, Kevin in the passenger seat and Frankie on the camp bed in the back with his ankle propped up on two pillows.

Even less before Kevin found himself, almost in the space of a blink, in Frankie Platinum…sorry, Frankie Smith's flat with a friendly "Come in, come in! Make yourselves at home!"

It was less extravagant than he'd expected, the decor and the furniture were all down to earth and obviously chosen for comfort rather than style, as none of the furniture matched and judging by the things that filled the shelves, Frankie had a fondness for strange knickknacks and bizarre book titles and he would, given more time, love to peruse them, however, the early hour and the smell of the bacon sandwiches they had, at Frankie's request, (more like mild nagging) bought from the first place they found that was open, added to the fact that Theresa had just sat on the sofa which had almost eaten her, it was so soft, made him relax despite being in the presence of someone he actually respected.

"So, how'd you hurt yourself?" Theresa asked, before taking a big bite out of her sandwich, getting ketchup on her fingers

"Stone steps are slippery as polished marble when it's raining, remember that, children. Fell down the steps of the opera house after getting an 'up coming events' brochure,"

"Such a klutz"

"If you don't mind me asking," Kevin said, "James said you were an old friend of Theresa's mother, but how did you two meet? Were you at school together?"

To his surprise, Frankie laughed lightly, "Actually we met in the A&E of London Central Hospital"

"Excuse me?" Kevin wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly

"Well, it happened like this…"

* * *

_Frankie had been at a Gay Pride March, he wasn't gay himself but had a lot of friends who were and he was always up for a good cause._

_The march was supposed to be a peaceful one, walking from one end a part of the city to the other…sounded simple enough, right?_

_Sadly, some people didn't like the idea of a quiet march; specifically anti-gay fractions that hadn't heard it was a non-violent event had shown up and decided to invoke an old-fashioned gay bashing – whether you were gay or not._

_The police had shown up, but not before some had been rushed straight to casualty._

_Frankie, however, since he was still walking and talking, had simply been given a lift to A&E and a contact number for the police to inform them of how things had turned out so that they could make an official report._

_The lady at the desk had been more than a bit cold to him, ("If attitudes were countries, she'd be Antarctica in mid-December") giving him the impression she thought he was wasting her time and faking his injuries despite the blood still dripping from his nose and split lip and the bruise around his right eye getting darker by the moment._

_He'd been unceremoniously told to take a seat, with the implication that he should sit down, shut up and stop whining about injuries he was making up._

_It had happened that the seat he'd chosen in the white and grey room, filled with hopelessly out of date magazines about celebrities that no-one really cared out, had been next to Melody, Theresa's mother, she'd been there since mid-morning because Theresa had chosen that day to hurl herself off the garden wall and down the steps._

_Melody had been anxious because she'd been a teen-mother (and a lot of them are) and afraid that no one would believe it'd been an accident whilst her back was turned and that Theresa would be taken away from her, despite never having been in with any injuries before now and the pieces of gravel still stuck, here and there, to the toddler's face._

"_Don't worry, I'm sure they see lots of children like this," Frankie'd reassured her, then offered his hand in introduction, "Frankie Smith"_

"_Melody Chappen and this is Theresa, my daughter," Melody had replied (Theresa had been asleep at this time, despite the bruising – though she voiced the opinion it was probably due to pure boredom.)_

_He wasn't quite sure how things had progressed from a simple meeting in an A&E waiting room to becoming friends but Frankie was a greater believer in the workings of fate and Melody had been a good friend to Frankie and, he hoped, he to her up until the day she died._

_

* * *

_

"…and there you have it," Frankie said with a shrug…moments before something grey and furry landed in his lap and attempted to steal some of his bacon sandwich.

The thing turned out to be a young-ish grey tabby cat; at a guess it was about a year old

"Viola!" the singer said, half pleased, half annoyed, pushing gently at the animal's head in an attempt to push it away from himself long enough to offer it the bit of bacon it'd been after, "Viola, precious, you are naughty. Where've you been hiding?"

The two teenagers shared an embarrassed look as Frankie began to baby talk to the cat and give it kisses over its furry face.

"I think it's time we left you to get some sleep," Theresa said, licking the last of the ketchup from her fingers, "I'll come and see you again in the week, OK?"

"OK, my beauty," Frankie grabbed her arm and tugged her down to kiss her cheek, "bring your boyfriend with you too! You make a REALLY nice couple and I want to see if some of the things you've told me are true!" he added in a stage whisper

10 minutes later they left Frankie cuddled on his sofa with a quilt covering him and Viola covering the quilt – he'd quickly handed out the gifts he'd bought in Australia, so Theresa wore her new, stereotypical cork-hat back to the van and Kevin left feeling like the child he hadn't had much of a chance to be, he left with Frankie Platinum's autograph.

"You know," he said as they got into Theresa's van, "He's a lot more…approachable in person than he seems on stage"

That made her smile at him as she clicked her seatbelt into place

"Reminds me of someone else I know, love," she said, reaching across to give his hand a squeeze.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**__ I love writing sweet scenes between Theresa and Kevin…I also thought it'd be nice for Kevin to show a little bit of passion about something other than wrestling and training, so he likes a particular band, in this case, he's a big fan of REGINA._

_And if you haven't guessed already (you're smart people) Frankie Platinum aka Frankie Smith is loosely based on Freddy Mercury aka __Farrokh Bulsara. I have loads of fun writing Frankie, he's such a lovable character, n'est-il pa?_

_**Frankie:**__ The next chapter you'll do my beauty's beloved's father, right? And who were those strange men announcing at the start of the chapter?_

_**Author:**__ in reverse order: That's Doc and Mac and I don't know how to stop them getting in here, I think I need to get an alarm or something and secondly, do you have any idea how hard Robin is to write for? _

_**Frankie**__: Oh, try (hugs)_

_**Author:**__ Why can't I ever say 'no' to you, Frankie?_


	4. Same City, Worlds Apart

_**Frankie:**__ Hello my darlings! Today I have been given the great honour of opening this chapter of 'Inevitability' by the author. She would do it herself, but she's dealing with those two odd little announcing gents who keep breaking in here. _

_(he looks off-screen where there's some heated discussion going on)_

_**Frankie:**__ …well, anyway, I have to tell you, sweeties, it is a lovely chapter with lots of darkness and loneliness and light and love and laughter. She put a lot of effort into this, so please sit back, relax and enjoy it_

_(he waits for the fade to black a moment before he's handed a cue-card)_

_**Frankie:**__ What's this? (reads it) Oh, and please remember to throw a review our way, it encourages quicker writing. Enjoy! (blows a kiss)_

_

* * *

_

It had taken much longer than he'd anticipated it would, but Robin had finally managed to glean a little information about Kevin's apparent significant other. However, the lack of actual detail was both irritating and perplexing.

Said information amounted to that her name was Theresa (the confirmation that 'she' was indeed a _she_ had been a source of great mental relief), she, like himself and Kevin, lived in London. He knew that she wanted to be a teacher for children with learning disabilities and that she liked peppermint tea, preferably with honey.

Surprisingly, the majority of his information had come from Meat, who had apparently spent a good 20 minutes casually chatting with the girl on one of the rare occasions she visited Japan, whilst she'd been waiting to pick up Kevin after a match. Oh, he'd spoken to the members of the new generation, but none of them had been able to add anything new to Meat's information.

And there was the oddity.

Robin had met many, many girlfriends, lovers, partners and wives of his fellow wrestlers over the years, the majority of them revelled in attending the actual matches, as well as in the publicity of being seen with a famous wrestler (not Alice though. Robin has always counted himself blessed to have found someone who simply loved him) But again, according to Meat, Theresa hardly ever attended Kevin's matches and seemed to be pretty successful at avoiding drawing any media attention to herself.

The trainer hadn't been sure of why that should, after all 'shouldn't any girl be proud ta be seen with top-notch wrestler like Kevin?'

Meat had also mentioned very briefly meeting her back last year when the IWF World Tour Wrestling had happened, but not long enough to find out much, although he had noted that Theresa hadn't, at the time, seemed to know either that Kevin was a wrestler or that he was famous for being so. He also remembered that she'd seemed upset at learning both pieces of information, but that was where his knowledge had ended.

Having thought all of this over, Robin finally came to a conclusion about the girl.

It was horrifying (to him, at least)

"Alice," he said to the photo beside his chair, "the boy has taken up with a member of the Plymouth Brethren!"

Well, it was possible that it wasn't _that_ extreme, but that truly was the only way he could fathom anyone not knowing who Kevin was and what he did. It never occurred to him that she held no interest in wrestling.

Robin sighed tiredly to himself, only now realising that it was getting late into the night.

That damned flight had taken longer than usual due to turbulence and then the thrice-damned airport had 'lost' his luggage and thus he had spent more time than he would have liked berating the staff until they located it.

But still, here he was, home again in the Mask Estates

Was it his imagination or did it seem larger and darker than he previously remembered?

Robin found himself gripped by a sudden urge to phone Warsman…anyone just to hear another voice beside his own in this place. But if he remembered correctly, Warsman was busy with, unbelievably, a girlfriend of his own (if one could actually class the odd little droid with wide violet eyes that the Russian currently took everywhere with him as 'female' even if it looked so)

He found himself wondering what his son was up to at this moment

If he knew Kevin at all, Robin supposed he was probably out beating up local ruffians.

* * *

Kevin groaned ecstatically and managed a: "Don't stop", though it came out muffled due having his face buried in the pillows on Theresa's bed, his flexed his shoulders slightly

"Hold still!" Theresa tried to snap but it came out as a giggle, and she went back to working out knots in his back muscles, "you've got more knots than a 100 year old tree"

"Iffs p'rt ff muh jb"

Theresa rolled her eyes and continued working on working out the kinks and fused fibres in her boyfriend's back, eliciting another sound of pleasure from him that really was teetering on the edge of 'obscene'…which of course resulted in Theresa laughing so hard that she fell off the bed and hit the floor, still laughing.

"And what, may I ask," Kevin asked with a smug smile, "Is so funny that it involves falling off the bed?" as if he didn't know already

"S-sorry" she giggled, getting to her feet and climbing back to her previous position, "couldn't help it." She resumed what she'd been doing a few moments before, after reloading her hands with the lavender scented body lotion she'd found last week, amongst her mother's things whilst looking for some clothes in the various boxes of stuff she and gramps kept in the attic. The lotion was, obviously, more than a few years out of date, but still smelt OK and hadn't caused a reaction to her skin when she'd tried a little on the back of her hand (other than to make her skin smell like lavender.)

"So," she spoke up, working on his shoulder blades, "spoke to Micky"

"How…how is Micky? And for the love of all that's holy, don't stop," Kevin sighed as he felt the tension he'd been carrying like a lead weight for the last 3 months melt like butter under the touches

"Fine. He's loving his course, his student digs and his new boyfriend"

"When did you speak to him?"

"Yesterday, while you were at the gym. I had my dance class and he's my dance partner, remember?"

His only answer was a 'mmm' – he did remember now. If he hadn't known for a fact that Micky was gay, he might have felt threatened by how much he and Theresa did together. But, like their friendship, their being partners for dancing had been going on since they were small.

"He invited us to the cinema with them next week, if you feel like going?"

If she expected something more intelligent than another half-asleep 'mmm', she was going to be sadly disappointed as a few more of his braincells lay down and went to sleep as his muscles relaxed further.

"…and I'll save that question for when you're mentally capable of telling me what 2+2 is"

He snorted slightly, he knew what 2+2 was…but it required too much brainpower to answer. Better to mull it over for a bit and then he could come up with a witty answer. He felt Theresa climb off his back and just about heard her leave the room.

It was likely he'd dozed off for a few minutes because the next sensation he felt was the mattress moving as Theresa sat down on it before she began shaking his shoulder gently.

"Hey, Gramps and I made veggie stew for dinner, do you want some?"

Kevin thought about it, or tried to think about it, but something else came to mind first.

Without a word, he grabbed her wrist and pulled just hard enough to put her off balance and pull her up against him, where he held loosely whilst gently nuzzling the top of her head and breathing in the rosemary scent of her shampoo (all this before she could even yelp in surprise)

"Turn about is fair play," he murmured, "you can be my teddy bear for awhile, and yes, I would very much like to eat your most excellent stew."

"Oh dear, oh dear" she said dryly, "cuddling with my boyfriend, will the torment never end?"

They both laughed quietly followed by approximately 20 minutes of dozing and cuddling, vaguely listening to what Gramps was singing down in the kitchen as he rattled bowls and cutlery in setting the table.

_If paradise is half as nice as heaven that you take me to _

_Who needs paradise, I'd rather have you _

_They say paradise is up in the stars _

_But I needn't sigh because it's so far _

_Cos' I know it's where a heaven on earth _

_Will be where you are _

_If paradise is half as nice as heaven that you take me to _

_Who needs paradise I'd rather have you _

_Oh, yes I'd rather have you_

This continued until Gramps called up the stairs, wanting to know if they were coming to eat the stew or if he was going to have to eat the whole pan by himself.

So it was only mild reluctance that they got off the bed, Kevin pulled on his worn out grey shirt, Theresa put on a pair of socks and they went downstairs to sit at the kitchen table while the radio played gently in the background.

_If paradise is half as nice…_

_

* * *

_

_**Frankie:**__ There you have it. Did you enjoy it as much as I did, my loves?_

_**Author:**__ Thanks for filling in, Frankie. You did a lovely job_

_**Frankie:**__ Anytime, sweetness, anytime. You got your little problem sorted out, I trust?_

_**Author:**__ Oh yes, I directed them towards another fiction I have cooking. This one is set outside of FtMaD reality. I am actually going to borrow from the wonderful LucretiaDecoy's UM reality, so I told them they could announce over on that one._

_**Frankie:**__ Marvellous! So…coffee and a doughnut? I'm paying._

_**Author:**__ Ooh, lead the way! _


	5. Worlds Collide

_**Author: **Whew! It's done! It's taken months of writing, saving, deleting and rewriting, but it's done and here for your viewing pleasure_

_**Frankie:** Finally! And we get to see My Beauty all dr–_

_**Author:** No spoilers Frankie, leave them to read it themselves. come on, I'll buy you some tea while we're waiting_

_**Frankie:** How nice of you :)_

* * *

"Theresa," James' voice called from downstairs, breaking through Kevin's sleep, "if you want a lift, you'd better get a move on!"

"I'm nearly ready!" Theresa's voice called back, followed by the sound of shifting cloth and the noise of a zip being pulled shut, which alerted the super-powered human to the horrifying fact that his girlfriend was no longer in bed with him.

"…mm?" Kevin mumbled, managing to push himself up into a sitting pose, before rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "what's going on?"

"Oh! You're awake!" Theresa appeared in his line of vision, hair slightly damp and bare minimum of make-up applied (the way Micky had taught her) to her face.

"Apparently…what time is it?"

"According to the clock, it's 7.45am, I let you sleep, I'm nice like that."

"Where are you going?"

"Work. I told you last night before we went out with Micky and Quentin I was working today, it was why we couldn't stay for the late night double feature,"

Oh…that was right, he recalled now. Theresa worked part time as an office girl at her grandfather's garage, answering phones, filing MOTslips and marking down appointments in the logbook.

Basically, nothing she hadn't done before, the only difference was that now she did it officially for a few hours a week and got paid minimum wage to do it.

…he really liked how her legs looked in tights…

"Always knew you only loved me for my body," Theresa chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed to buckle her shoes and Kevin realised he must have voiced that aloud

"You can stay here with me" so saying he pulled her down to lie next to him, ignoring her protest of "Oi!"

"If I look at the tag on this dress," Kevin said slowly, in what was for him a teasing manner, "will it say 'Mary Quant'?"

"Maybe…too bad you're not going to find out"

"What do you expect me to do all day?"

"Whatever you like, it's you time off. But why don't you come and meet me for lunch before I go to college? There's a good greasy spoon down the road from Gramp's garage"

"Theresa…I am a member of the Mask family, I know which fork is a salad fork and the difference between a serviette and a napkin," he said, half-jokingly, "nothing you can say will convince me to eat in a greasy spoon"

"Oh really?" Theresa unconsciously wound some of his hair around her fingers, "really really?"

"Yes, really"

"OK…" she disentangled herself from his grip, stood up, smoothed down her dress with her hands, cleared her throat and said: "All Day Full English Breakfast with a free plate of toast and mug of tea with free refills"

"Temptress!"

"I just know you too well by now," she leaned down and kissed his forehead

"Theresa! I'm going to start the car, you have 5 minutes to join me or you'll have to catch the bus in!"

"Coming!" she gave him a quick kiss, "I'll see you at about 12.30, take care!"

And then she was gone in a clatter of feet on the stairs.

Kevin lay back for a few minutes…it wasn't long before something bumped along the landing and after a moment more, something landed on the bed with a small huff.

"Morning Banksy," he said and patted the dog on the head, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you'd just come to keep me company, rather than steal my body heat"

The dog made a chuffing noise that might just have been canine laughter before Banksy put his head on Kevin's chest and closed his chocolate brown eyes.

"As enjoyable as it would be to lie here and allow you to soak up all my body heat, Banksy, I have other things to do," he told the dog, gently shifting himself out of the bed and pulling on clean clothes from the cupboard Theresa had cleared out for him because _'you don't have a lot of clothes but you can't live out of your kitbag forever'_

Banksy simply moved to the space that Kevin had vacated, soaking up the warmth with a blissful expression.

* * *

Some hours later, Kevin walked into Chappen Auto Repairs, the bell over the door jingled merrily, announcing that someone had arrived, and then he simply stood in the small reception area, watching as Theresa held the office phone jammed between her shoulder and her ear

She'd looked up at the bell, and seeing that it was her boyfriend, she held up a finger and mouthed 'one minute' at him, so he sat on one of the cheaply upholstered chairs, breathing in the smell of motor oil and grease.

"…OK, so that's Tuesday next week at 10.30am, yes I'm noting it down right now sir," she scribbled into the ledger quickly, "there we are…yes, no one will forget. You're welcome. Goodbye"

She made sure the phone was down before she let her head smack gently against the desk and released a sigh that spoke volumes in frustration.

"Have you come to take me away from all this?" her voice came out slightly muffled due to the desk,

"Long morning?" Kevin asked, raising from the chair and walking the short distance to the desk

"Why does everyone feel the need to book their MOT's at the same time on the same day?"

"Poor Theresa," he ran a gloved hand gently through her hair, "I suppose this means you're too tired to come and have lunch with me? In which case I shall have to call you a terrible tease"

"Wasn't teasing and can you just keep doing that for a minute please? Oh my gods, that's nice…"

He continued the stroking her hair until she deigned it a necessity to raise her head.

"Thank you," she flipped a switch on the phone that'd put it to answering machine mode, "I'll grab my bag, tell Gramps I'm off and then we can go," she stood up from the desk, stood on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek (well, the area his cheek would have been if it hadn't been covered by his mask)

Exactly 10 minutes later they were safely ensconced in The Hide-Away Café, which did indeed have the promised All Day Full English Breakfast, plus the free tea refills.

If the café owners noticed that Kevin Mask was in their establishment, they didn't show much surprise, they calmly took his and Theresa's order, asking after her grandfather and her dog and her college work like old friends, and told them to take a seat wherever they wanted.

"Do you come here often?" Kevin asked her, wrapping his gloved hands around his mug of tea

"Are you seriously asking me or are you just trying to chat me up?" she quirked an eyebrow at him and smiled

"I don't need to chat you up," he humphed in mock-affront "I can just win you over with my English charm"

"That only works if you're chatting up a girl who isn't from the UK. Since I'm English too, it doesn't work on me."

"So if it wasn't my English charm, what was it that attracted you to me?"

She took a sip of tea, and pretended to think about it as she felt the liquid warm her up from the inside

"Freckles" she said finally

"Excuse me?"

"You have some light freckles across your nose," she gestured towards his face, "they're adorable. Wouldn't have given you a second look otherwise," she winked at him.

"Shallow woman"

"Only when it comes to your freckles, love"

"I do not have freckles"

"Yes you do"

"I am telling you-"

"That's one full English Breakfast with toast and one Winter Warmer soup with a granary roll"

"Thank you" they said together.

They ate in comfortable silence, now and then pausing to squeeze each other's hand until it came time for Theresa to go to her classes.

It was when they parted at the gates that Kevin had what he thought was an excellent idea.

* * *

Theresa's afternoon class was halfway through and she was treating herself to a cup of lukewarm white coffee from the machine in the canteen as she went over the list of books she needed from the college library, when her phone made a small noise that announced she had a text message.

_**Taking u out 2night. Wear something nice. Love Kevin xx**_

With a small wry smile she texted back

_**U don't like the way I dress? ;) love Theresa xx**_

_**U know I do. But wear something posh. We r going very uptown 2night, my dear. B ready by 8pm. Love Kevin xxxx**_

The thought of Kevin taking her out for no apparent reason was enough to make her blush with pleasure, the thought of 'wear something posh' was enough to make her frown though, as the best she normally wore was smart-casual.

What was a girl to do?

Then it came to her.

_**Micky. R U busy this afternoon? **_

_**Nope. Y?**_

_**Q.E.F.T.S.W**_

_**OMG! REALLY? I'll meet u at ur college, OK? When do u finish?**_

_**4pm. But can u make it 4.25? Need 2 talk 2 my tutor.**_

_**OK. C U then. Micky xoxoxoxoxoxox**_

* * *

Several hours later, feeling both like a little girl playing dress up with her mother's clothes and horribly out of place at the same time, Theresa sat opposite Kevin in a restaurant she'd never have even imagined ever stepping into.

The restaurant in question was one that didn't print the price after their menu selections…leading her to the assumption that if you had to ask how much a dish cost, you probably couldn't afford it. (At least, anyone from the walk of life she and her grandfather occupied couldn't afford it)

"Stop looking so nervous," Kevin told her gently, "you look as if you expect them to start accusing you of attempting to steal the silverware"

"You could have taken me for pizza and a film and I'd have been happy"

"And miss the sight of you dressed up to the nth?" he gave her an appreciative look, really liking the simple teal dress and silver jewellery looked on her.

He should take her to places like this more often.

"So relax and just enjoy," he advised, reaching across the table and giving her hand a squeeze

"It's really that obvious that I keep half expecting them to ask me to show some sort of pedigree certificate?"

"Only glaringly. I'm surprised you've never been here before. I would have thought Frankie would bring you to places like this"

"You've been to his flat," she replied "can you honestly tell me that you can picture him eating here?"

"It's not an unreasonable assumption; he is a star of the musical scene, after all"

"Who all but begged me to pull over at the first open greasy spoon we came across so that he could buy half his own weight in bacon sandwiches?"

They both laughed gently and Kevin was glad to see her visibly relax as they did so, he'd worried that he'd over done it bringing her here, but now…now it was alright.

* * *

Robin Mask entered the restaurant with an inaudible sigh of relief.

It was the sort of place he liked, a fine old British institution, with a price list that ensured no Burberry-Nike-clad riffraff could possibly afford to even look at the place, let alone enter it.

Too many places these days had let standards slip, but not this place.

No, this was Robin's small patch of heaven

(And being in a restaurant surrounded by people seemed infinitely less lonely than yet another night alone on the Mask Estates, not that he'd ever admit that out loud)

It was only after he'd been seated in a private booth, of his own requesting, that the waiter (who was very young and very new at his job) enquired would Sir Mask would prefer to join his son and his companion at their table?

"Where?"

The waiter directed his gaze towards a small, mildly secluded table, not too far away from his own, where two people sat, conversing quietly with each other.

Yes, that was Kevin, if the long dirty blond hair hadn't been an indicator, then the blue iron mask was a dead give away. The young lady with him, he assumed it was Theresa, (no recent IWF gossip had involved them breaking up) looked...well, she looked normal enough upon first glance, at she at least seemed to know how to dress when entering such a high class place as this...but something about her seemed off to Robin.

Well, there was no time like the present in which to introduce oneself and possibly divest ones son of a gold digger, should the young lady prove to be so.

He ordered a glass of Rosé and drank half of it before making his way to the young couple's table

"Good evening, Kevin"

TBC

* * *

**Author:** Dun dun DUN!

**Frankie:** I think that's a bit over the top, it seems innocent enough.

**Author:** give me a break. It's been a long time coming and now it's here! Robin & Theresa meet up!

**Frankie: **you're being a bit mean with a cliffhanger ending...

**Author:** I want this chapter off my desk. plus it's late and I'm using my grandfather's PC.


	6. Awkward Meeting and Long Nights

_**Author:**__ Well, here we are! Finally! I know it's been ages but the dreaded Real Life happened._

_**Frankie:**__ But thank you for all the reviews in the mean time. They are what spurred her on to finish this marvellous chapter. Truly, it's wonderful. I enjoyed it._

_**Author:**__ Even if you're not in it?_

_**Frankie:**__ Unlike that Jack Harkness you write about on the side, I don't need to read about myself to enjoy a story._

_**Author:**__ And I suddenly remember why I love you._

* * *

Kevin choked on his sip of iced water as his father arrived at the table and spoke to him, which probably a good thing as it quashed the curse word he would have uttered.

It took a few seconds for his brain to realise that he wasn't drowning and that no, unfortunately, he wasn't having a nightmare; his father really was standing beside the table.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked, this was putting a serious damper on what had been a nice quiet romantic meal.

"I suspect the same as you. I simply am dining in this fine establishment. Imagine my surprise when it was pointed out to me that you were also here. And," Robin cast his gaze on Theresa, who blinked at him, "with a companion"

OK, the old man was obviously now trying to wrangle an introduction.

Fine.

If it meant he'd go away and allow Theresa and himself to continue their night in peace.

"Theresa," he said as calmly and politely as he could muster, trying to put a lid on his annoyance at their evening being interrupted, "allow me to introduce Sir Robin Mask. GBE at HRH's pleasure," then added as an afterthought: "My father."

He took a careful drink of water, his throat feeling bone dry before he continued.

"Father, this is Theresa Chappen. My girlfriend."

"It's very nice to meet you," Theresa told Robin softly, offering her hand, "I've heard a lot about you from Kevin"

'_Most of it bad'_ Kevin thought to himself, though mentally applauded her for not saying that out loud

"Really?" Robin's tone conveyed that he knew precisely what sort of things his son had told her about him, but shook Theresa's hand anyway, "Well, I am charmed to meet you also, Miss Chappen."

* * *

Robin took the time required in shaking the girl's hand to give her a quick once-over.

She was, apparently, polite.

So far, there was nothing to object to

…

So far

There was still a long road ahead before she gained his approval, but politeness certainly helped

It also helped that her fingernails were clean, free of any varnish, and cut short, no talons on her.

Her hair, short and light blonde, was brushed neatly; he also noted that though she was wearing make up, it was minimal, a nice change to some of the young ladies you saw today, most of whom wore so much make up, one would swear they'd applied it in the dark with a paint roller.

And, he noticed, she was drinking iced water, not wine or champagne

Very interesting…

"So," he pressed on, "How long have you and my son known each other, precisely?"

"A little bit over a year, I think"

"And how did you two meet?"

"I ran into him at the park near where I live"

"Literally," Kevin smiled slightly at the memory. She hadn't known who he was at all and had been far too busy chasing her musical score sheets to notice where she was going.

"I did say I was sorry," Theresa pointed out, smiling at him fondly

"I see," Robin nodded, taking in this information.

A park…hardly the sort of place anyone seeking to further their lives would be found, quite the opposite in fact.

There was the distinct possibility forming that, just perhaps, she was actually interested in Kevin for himself, though Robin decided not to disregard the idea completely for the moment.

He would have questioned the girl further but just at that moment, the waiter arrived with the couple's order and etiquette deemed it impolite to remain and talk to them.

"Well, I shan't keep you from your meals," he nodded at them, "however, allow me to extend an invitation to you both for tea at the Mask Estates next Sunday?"

"What are you up to?" Kevin asked in a suspicious tone

"Nothing more than I have offered, son. Shall we say four 'o'clock?" this remark he directed towards Theresa, who blinked at him in surprise

"Um…yes?" she said, after a few moments, sounding uncertain, "that would be lovely"

"Excellent," Robin nodded, "very well. Enjoy your meals" and he returned to his own table.

Next Sunday would soon reveal the girl's agenda, if there was one to be had and he could deal with her much more effectively on the Mask Estates.

* * *

Some hours later, Kevin lay awake in bed, one arm draped possessively around Theresa's waist as she slept and he stared at the slightly less-than-blackness of the back of her head.

He hadn't felt like staying in the restaurant much past the main course, somehow the knowledge that his father was there had left him with an almost visible dark cloud hanging over him.

The only down side had been that between their arrival and the time they left, the heavens had opened and it had been lashing it down and surprise, surprise, there'd been not taxi's available.

They'd both got a dousing waiting for James to collect them.

All in all, Kevin felt the whole night had been a failure

Theresa sighed in her sleep and flexed her shoulders slightly.

She certainly hadn't seemed to find it a horrid night, she'd said something about singing in the rain, but he hadn't heard her if she'd sung anything.

He sighed.

"Penny for them," Theresa spoke up with a yawn, and stretched sleepily

"Hmm? You're awake?"

"It's very hard to sleep when you're boring holes into the back of my head," this was said with affection, and she reached out and turned on her beside lamp. They both squinted, getting used to the light again before she turned carefully to lie looking at him, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing" he kissed her forehead, hoping she was too tired to probe further

"If nothing was wrong you'd be asleep, not lying in the dark with your eyes open at…" she sat up slightly to look at her clock-radio "…half past three in the morning…so what's bothering you?"

"It's a toss up between my father turning up and inviting us to tea at the estates and getting drenched in the rain and not being able to find a taxi and having to call your grandfather to come and collect us and-"

"I enjoyed it" she interrupted him

"What?"

"I enjoyed myself."

He stared at her for a few minutes,

"…Really?"

"Yes, Kevin, really. Aside from feeling that they were going to ask to see my birth certificate before they let me sit down, it was a lovely place and I enjoyed the food."

"It could have gone better…I really wanted it to be perfect"

She shook her head with a sigh, leaned up and kissed the end of his nose

"You made the effort, it means a lot," she chuckled (albeit tiredly), "though you could've taken me for pizza and a film and I'd have been happy"

"Really?"

"You know me well enough by now"

"Well enough to know you're wondering when I'll let you go back to sleep" he couldn't help himself, he smiled at her, she had managed to soothe most of the worries about their night, even if they hadn't addressed the situation with his father.

"Am I that transparent?"

"Like crystal," he kissed her forehead again, "you can go back to sleep now"

Without much pause, she turned the light off and they both settled back down, though he draped an arm around her waist a little more securely than normal.

Well, he considered, the worst that could happen would be Robin trying to forbid Kevin from seeing Theresa…and there was about as much chance of that happening as there was of finding mines filled with cheese (he chuckled to himself; he must be exhausted if he was thinking up such strange things.)

It looked like he was just going to have to grit his teeth and suffer through Sunday Tea with his father.

Oh well, bring it on…

TBC

* * *

_**Author:**__ It's not the greatest ending for a chapter, I know, but I really wanted this done. I wrote and rewrote this one about fifteen or sixteen times._

_**Kevin:**__ Did we miss anything huge because of it?_

_**Author:**__ Well…I was going have this really adorable scene of Theresa brushing your hair for you, but it didn't flow properly._

_**Kevin:**__ What, exactly, is adorable about hair brushing?_

_**Author:**__ See? THIS is why the scene didn't work. I have to explain everything to you. It was supposed to show how much trust you have in her that you'd let her sit behind you and brush your hair._

_**Kevin:**__ Oh. (contemplative look)_

_**Author:**__ I'll try and get to it in the next chapter._


	7. Friends 'til the End

_**Author:** I'm amazed at myself, I actually got this chapter done quickly (for me) even if it's only short fodder_

_**Frankie:** I like this chapter._

_**Author:** You heard it here first, this chapter is Frankie Platinum approved!_

* * *

"You're going for afternoon tea at the Mask Estates?" Micky asked

"Mmh hmm," Theresa answered

"On Sunday?"

"That's what I agreed to"

"What're you going to wear?"

"Don't know. Haven't thought about it. What do you wear to afternoon tea?"

"I think you dress smart but not too smart. Are you taking a present?"

"Mick?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk about this after practice is over?"

She looked down at him, mostly because at the moment she was suspended in midair with his hands on her hips

"Sure," he put her down, waited a beat, then twirled her outwards before pulling her back in expertly, it was flawless, but then again they had been doing this for a long time, "if you want to be boring about it"

"Oh, I like boring" she did a subtle hop and wrapped her legs around his waist then bent herself backwards slightly, "I'm not terribly keen on this song, though"

"I don't know," he bent forward so that Theresa's head was almost touching the cracked varnish floor, "it's starting to grow on me after 3 weeks worth of dancing to it"

"I'm still not sure about it"

"_**Mr **_Dolenz! _**Miss**_ Chappen!" Their dance instructor called bitchily, banding his walking stick on the ground (he didn't actually need it, he just used it as a method of gaining his students attention) "You are _**supposed**_ to be symbolising the dreamy memory of the singer about his time with the unnamed woman! This is supposed to be about PASSION! NOT a wedding dance with your sister! SHOW ME DREAMY PASSION!" he instructor went a disturbing shade of dark red, and some plaster dust from the ceiling of the old community hall, where the dance classes were held, fell down as his shouting shook the very rafters (which contained not a small amount of dry rot, but still not enough to make the company responsible for the place actually do anything about it)

Not wanting to bring on a third heart attack in the man (the first two had been dramatic enough) they ceased chatting and turned up the 'passion' and, because the instructor wasn't quite his normal shade yet, threw in some 'mystical' hand gestures, making extra certain their movements were as fluid as possible.

By the end of class, the instructor looked like his usual, not-near-a-heart-attack complexion (to the relief of both Micky and Theresa as well as the eight other dancers in the class, none of whom had been spared a 'you're not doing it right or showing me enough passion!' lecture either)

"Want to go to The Penguin Café before we go home?" Micky asked as they went their separate ways to get changed.

"Mind reader"

"It's why I'm your best friend"

"I thought you were my best friend because we both wanted apple & blackcurrant squash instead of orange at break time and we both liked building castles out of Duplo" she raised an eyebrow at him playfully

"You're _very_ funny"

"It's why I'm your best friend. And is this trip your treat or mine?"

"We can go Dutch"

"What does that even mean?"

* * *

"So, afternoon tea at the Mask Estates?"

"Apparently so"

They were now safely ensconced in the warm atmosphere of The Penguin Café, one the new red 'leather' seated booths near the far wall, having changed out of their 'dance' clothes and back into their usual attire; in Micky's case a pair of dark jeans, a button up shirt and a 'suit' jacket and in Theresa's, her favourite tye-dyed shirt that'd formerly belonged to Gramps and her favourite circa-1987 jeans, formerly her mother's.

"How's Kevin feel about it?" Micky began demolishing his cake, despite the athletic build that comes of being a dancer from the age of seven, he had a big sweet tooth and would eat half of his own weight in cake if he thought he could get away with it.

"He's not saying as much, but I can tell he's not thrilled, and 'not thrilled' is probably an understatement on my part."

"So, what about you? You nervous about meeting your, for argument's sake, don't glare at me, father-in-law?"

"Is an overwhelming sense that I should be using Burke's Peerage as my bedtime reading and learning it all off by heart, in alphabetical and numerical order, before I even think about setting foot through the front door of the place a bad thing?" Theresa stopped tearing bits out of her white paper napkin and wrapped her fingers around the cream-coloured china mug, (it contained orange pekoe with honey and some lemon) letting the in-café band's music wash over her.

Her friend considered this, finishing off his very healthy wheat-flour, sultana and 'I-can't-believe-it's-not-honey' muffin as he did (he wasn't vegan, or even vegetarian, he just liked the taste)

"Do you know who the reigning monarch is?" he asked finally

"Housewife Lizzie" she replied promptly

"Then I don't think you need to worry," he paused over his coffee, (black, fair trade decaf and one spoonful of fair trade brown sugar) "though you should probably call her Queen Elizabeth, not Housewife Lizzie"

"If the carpet slippers fit,"

"I bet she doesn't wear carpet slippers; it's probably 'expensive Persian rug' slippers"

That image made them both laugh and then they both took a drink of their respective beverages and listened to the music for a while.

"So, how's Quentin?"

"He's good"

There was an unasked question hanging in the air on Micky's side, after that sentence.

"I like him" Theresa told him, "He seems nice, if I had to imagine you with anyone, it'd be him."

"Really?"

"If I didn't like him, I'd tell you. Remember Jason?"

"Oh yeah…" he shuddered slightly. Jason had been a horrible rebound mistake; and he hadn't realised that until…well…

"I told you that no one should make you dye your hair black and wear blue contact lenses to make you look like his favourite pop star"

"OK, OK, I admitted ages ago that you were right," he leaned over and poked her in the shoulder, she batted his hand away gently as he finished: "no one likes a gloater"

"Me? Gloat? Never!" she gave him a mock coy look, which made him throw the case from his muffin at her, which got him a half-hearted protest and giggle from his best friend, and a warning look from the café staff.

"Sorry…so, what you going to wear?"

"I was going to dig out my Gran's red and black Mary Quant dress. I'm pretty certain I saw it in the attic the last time I went up there"

"I swear to God, your attic is like 1960's Narnia"

"Not true…well, maybe it is. But Gran was a big Mary Quant fan before she went hippie, used to save up all her pocket money then splurge on a dress. She told me once that after all the hard graft, she didn't really want to give them away or throw them out"

"That's fair enough…black tights and shoes?"

"The was the general idea. Objections?"

"Not a one. Since you didn't actually bother much about this sort of thing not too long ago, I think you're doing well. Will you buy me another muffin if I promise help you dig all that stuff out of the attic?"

"Who says you can't buy friendship?" she leaned over as she stood up and gently flicked the end of his nose.

* * *

_**Author:**__ OK, I admit, this chapter was mostly to show that Micky and Theresa are still best friends and still a big part of each other's lives_

_**Micky:**__ I should hope I'm a big part of her life, we've been best friends since we were very little._

_**Theresa:**__ As if I could ever imagine life without you, Mick (hugs)_

_**Frankie:**__ Aww, that's sweet. (takes a photo)_

_(for anyone interested, the song they were dancing to earlier is 'who is she?' by I,Monster. Go look it up on youtube. It's one of those songs that seem to grow on you)_


	8. High Tea and Gothic Ceilings

_**Author****'****s****Note:** Yes, I know it's been awhile, but the dreaded Real Life happened, Christmas is coming and I was hospitalised back in November, that sort of thing tends to stop you writing_

_Still, here we are, a new chapter for all those who've been waiting, so, enjoy!_

* * *

"You look nervous"

"How can you tell?"

"Body language, you look like Banksy waiting to bite the postman"

"Banksy's never bitten the postman…has he?"

"He wants to. It's a dog thing"

"Do I look OK?"

"You look fine. And you're stalling."

"Can you blame me?"

"Not really but it's really bad manners to be late"

"Must we do this?"

"Yes, we must, now ring the doorbell, Mask"

"Bossy"

"I love you?" Theresa leaned up and kissed his cheek (or roughly where it would be without his mask) and gave him a coy look. They were stood on the steps outside the Mask Estates; it was a lot grander than anything Theresa was used to, looking like one of the houses from a BBC Period Drama, though she wondered if you could call a large town house an 'estate' but then again the word used was 'estates', plural, so perhaps there were more.

She knew one or two people at college whose family had a time-share summer homes in Spain but this seemed to be something different all together.

Kevin hmphed but rang the bell anyway; there was the sound of three bells ringing in succession, it was meant to be intimidating…it worked, he saw Theresa swallow nervously and he knew that the only thing keeping her from wiping her hands on the front of her dress was the large Tupperware box she was holding.

"Are _you_ nervous?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leaning down slightly to speak straight into her ear.

"Like you wouldn't believe," she gave a small chuckle, "I'm terrified there's dirt on my shoes or lip-gloss on my teeth. Mostly, I'm afraid that the neighbours will see me through a window and see some sort of invisible 'working class' tattoo on my forehead and call the police thinking I'm a chav who broke in. Does that tell you how nervous I am?"

"There is no tattoo on your forehead, no dirt on your shoes or lip-gloss on your teeth, and working class is completely different to being a chav"

"I know that…"

"And, dressed as you are now, you look much too refined to be a chav," and he liked the pink tinge that coloured her cheeks when he told her that.

He was about to suggest they turn around and go home but that was when the door opened.

* * *

Robin was only slightly surprised when the doorbell rang on the dot of four 'o'clock.

Today had not been a particularly good day thus far. What with his back acting up cruelly from the moment he'd woken up, leaving him in barely tolerable pain for most of the morning, his 'guaranteed next day delivery' of tea not turning up until about 15 minutes ago and news report of Warsman that had him angry at both the media for not leaving his friend and…companion (he still wasn't sure about that 'droid of Warsman's) be and at Warsman for not showing more decorum.

The news people had apparently caught up to the robotic Chojin while at the beach, despite the freezing temperatures, and tried to shove a camera in the face of the female-shaped 'droid, who'd been crouching on the sand in bare feet, letting the particles of ground up stone shift through its fingers with a look of rapt fascination, and tried to ask her…it…probing questions, which Warsman had apparently taken affront to and punched out the camera man and broken the camera lens.

So, all in all, this was the least unpleasant thing so far.

When he opened the door, it was a good thing to see that Kevin had dressed appropriately, in that he was wearing a button-up shirt and tidy trousers and leather shoes (a change from the training gear he usually wore) though the most surprising thing was that the girl was wearing something tasteful, something he wasn't expecting since too many young women these days seemed to follow the 'less is more' school of fashion, as in less clothing, more skin on display.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them both, "It's good to see you both, come in"

"Thank you, Father" Kevin nodded, allowing Theresa to go in ahead of him.

"Thank you for inviting us," the girl, Theresa, said softly and made a move to follow Kevin but stopped just inside the hall, "Um, here," she carefully passed the large Tupperware box she was holding to Robin, "I brought you a Tart aux Fruits"

"Thank you," he responded, slightly surprised but he opened the lid slightly to look, the scent of fruit and custard hit him, the scent was familiar, "From the Maison Blanc Boulangerie Patisserie?"

"No…" Theresa blinked at him, looking slightly perplexed, not recognising the name, "from my kitchen"

Robin looked to his son, who nodded in affirmation.

Kevin knew it was hand-made because he'd spent a very interesting Saturday going around a produce market with Theresa while she very carefully chose the ingredients from various stall holders, who'd cheerfully bantered with her as they'd bagged up the items, then spent the afternoon in the kitchen watching her fastidiously follow a recipe from one of her grandmother's cookbooks.

It had been a very interesting afternoon.

"Oh…" Robin wasn't sure how to answer that, but rallied quite well with: "Please, go through to the sitting room. I trust you still remember the way, Kevin? I will go and get someone to put this on a plate. I will be with you momentarily."

* * *

Kevin showed Theresa into the large, ornate sitting room with its ornate bookshelves and leather seating around the aged oak table, even pulling her chair out for her first.

Manners were useful, it seemed, because she gave him a grateful look, sat up straight…then flopped slightly and fanned herself dramatically with a hand.

"Well…he hasn't eaten me. That's something"

"He's too polite to do that without condiments" he sat down in the chair next to her and took her hand, entwining their fingers, as much for his own comfort as hers.

"This is it, is it?" she asked, leaning towards him slightly, speaking in a low voice, "your childhood home, the place it all happened"

"The ancestral home of my ancestors, setting of many a recurring nightmare"

"Fantastic" she said without much to indicate she thought it actually was, "will you give me the grand tour later?"

"If you really want me to"

"I could sell the imagery to Tim Burton afterwards"

Under his mask, Kevin smiled and kissed her forehead, or gently put the lower part of his mask there, which, as ever, amounted to the same thing in their relationship.

"Am I interrupting?"

* * *

The young couple sprang apart as if electrocuted when Robin came back, more in shock than guilt, it seemed, though remained holding hands

It was strange, to witness your son apparently in love, wrapped up in a world that consisted of only two people, still he didn't question and he found the afternoon was pleasant enough.

The girl said 'please' and 'thank you' at the appropriate times, accepted a cup of Lady Grey without asking for milk or sugar and Robin even found himself enjoying the Tart aux Fruits she'd brought with her. (True it wasn't exactly up to the standards of the Maison Blanc Boulangerie Patisserie, but it was still enjoyable)

It was, he decided, privately, mildly annoying to find that he couldn't find fault with her and that she never once mentioned the subject of money or clothing or designer names, instead she talked at length about the current state of the music industry how there didn't seem to be room for any of the current bands to expand their creativity due to the CEO's constantly looking for The Next Big Thing rather than focusing on the groups they already had, which was why she didn't like programmes like 'The X-Factor',

(and, surprisingly, she had a fairly good idea of the current political climate, though only stayed on the topic long enough to say that, if she had to vote for anyone, it would probably be the Liberal Democrats)

"So, Theresa," he asked finally, deciding it was time to make an attempt at finding out if the girl had any ulterior motives, "what is it that you do?"

"I'm a student," she replied easily enough, "I'm studying to be a teacher"

"Oh? In what field, may I ask?"

"Special needs"

Ah ha…

"There isn't much money in that field," he ventured,

"This is true," she said slowly, giving him an odd look, "but I don't want to go into teaching for the money. I want to make a difference in some people's lives"

"Admirable, but even so, without a stable financial…"

"Father," Kevin interrupted, "I think perhaps Theresa might enjoy a short tour of the house?" his son looked down at his girlfriend who nodded, almost gratefully and said:

"Yes, I'd like that very much"

"Excellent," Kevin offered her his hand and all but pulled her up to her feet, "do excuse us, we shan't be a moment"

* * *

"And this is my grandfather, Robin Knight," Kevin gestured to a large portrait hung on the wall upstairs.

"I can see the resemblance," Theresa remarked dryly, because of course, the portrait was also, like Kevin and Robin, wearing an iron mask, despite the rather fancy suit, "I feel like I'm in a museum," she gestured to the portraits and obvious antiques throughout the upstairs corridor, "I'm afraid I'll break something expensive"

"Welcome, my dear, to my childhood" he bowed theatrically

"OK, now THAT was creepy"

"No, I shall show you creepy"

"Oh?"

"My old bedroom is up here"

Said bedroom, once they'd located it, was Spartan, painted cream and carpeted with something that looked expensive in the same colour. There were lots of books, but they mostly had titles like 'Wrestling Legends' and 'Wrestling Techniques – step by step'.

It hadn't changed at all, except the linens on the bed were obviously freshly laundered and the place dusted regularly.

"It's…clean" Theresa said after a few minutes

"Try oppressive," Kevin closed the door, "and boring"

"So," Theresa sat down on the crisply made bed, "your dad is trying, in an obvious but roundabout way, to find out if I'm only with you for your money"

Kevin removed his mask just because he felt like it and sat down beside her

"Does it bother you?" he asked

"Not at all," she told him, straight-faced, "I AM only with you for your money, you know."

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow at her

"Oh yes, I mean, that was my plan right from the moment we met. Randomly. In the park on a rapidly darkening autumn afternoon. When I thought you were just a penniless Dumas fan I'd never see ever again once we parted ways" she finished this with a raised eyebrow back at him.

"You have a strange sense of humour at times, my dear" Kevin pulled her up against his side

"I know," she told him with a small laugh, "but I thought that was something you loved about me"

"No, actually, I'm only with you for your money"

"Cheeky!" she hit him with a pillow.

TBC

* * *

_**Author's Note:** I did intend for this to be longer, but Real Life is still trying to chomp on me_

_**Frankie:** Besides, Christmas is coming! Who has time to write?_

_**Author:** Forgot about that, I still have a load of gifts to wrap!_


	9. Good Intentions

_**Author's Note:** What's this? I hear you cry, "A new chapter of 'Inevitability'? I thought the author was dead!"_

_Not so. Just busy as all heck and dealing with a horrendous case of writer's block And the dreaded Real Life Monster._

_But here it is, shiny, new and just for you._

_**Kevin:** I thought you were just being lazy these last few months_

_**Author:** Hush up and behave or I'll make you houseshare with Kid Muscle in the future_

_**Kevin:** Pleaseenjoythisnextchapter!_

_**Author:** Attaboy._

* * *

"OK," Micky said, "You got there on time, took a Tart aux Fruits that you made as a gift. Then Robin Mask more or less accused you of being a gold digger, Kevin took you on a tour of the house, the pair of you wound up having a pillow fight on the bed of his old bedroom, then you both went and made extremely awkward small talk until it was late enough for you both to leave without seeming too eager to leave"

They were sat in the booth they used often enough for it to be considered their 'usual' one at the penguin café. They had been at their dance class about half an hour earlier…but then the instructor had seemed to have another heart attack from 'sheer artistic stress' and had been carted off to Intensive Care (it would turn out to not be another heart attack but a bad case of indigestion, but that still meant an early finish to their day)

The pair of them had headed to the Penguin Café mostly out of habit, but mainly because it was freezing cold and raining outside and it was the nearest, warmest place that was open on the way to the tube station

"That's about it, yes," Theresa nodded, Fair Trade Hot Chocolate sitting untouched in front of her

"But then Kevin invited him to your house to be polite, which is what he told his father, but really to get his own back by showing him how you and your grandfather really are"

"That's correct"

"You're OK with this?" Micky asked, scratching his head in mock confusion

"Not really, but there's not a lot I can do now without seeming rude, is there?"

Micky thought deeply for a few minutes whilst polishing off his wholemeal scone (then attempted to start on Theresa's, which earned him a quick smack to the hand) before he finally said:

"How about Quentin and I come for moral support? Will that make you feel better about the whole thing?"

"Yes," his friend replied almost instantly, "yes it would"

* * *

"You invited Micky and Quentin to tea the same day as my father?"

"That a problem?" Theresa asked, she was lying on her back on her bed, in typical student style, her book held above her head as she read it, and she was dressed in her preferred sleeping attire: an old baggy 60's band tee-shirt and a pair of soft shorts.

"I'm surprised," he told her, he himself was sat on the blue/grey carpeted floor doing sit ups, more as a way of combating stress than as a part of his usual training, "I'm not sure what my father would think"

"Do you care?" she lowered her book to let it rest on her stomach and tilted her head just so, enough to look at him upside down. It was a silly pose, but her gaze and tone were serious

"I…don't know." He paused, sitting up and resting his hands on his knees, "I don't know what to do or think"

The rain was still hammering down outside, feeling more like sleet. It was becoming more and more obvious that winter was definitely here, and thus, Kevin had opted to not go for a run, lest he get a not-lecture from Theresa about his health if he kept running in freezing cold weather.

He heard the movement of cloth against cloth as Theresa shifted to sit up, the sound of a drawer opening and shutting and, the soft pad-pad noise as she walked the short distance to him and pile moving as she knelt.

"I know what you should do," she said,

"Oh really?" he sighed

"Yes. You should stick your nose in the air and shame the devil, but first you should move to sit with your back against the bed because you know you're too tall for what I'm going to do to you."

Obediently he moved to the requested position and she moved to sit on the bed behind him, and began to very gently brush his hair.

This wasn't something that happened very often, too much time in the wrestling ring and the dmp had left Kevin ever so slightly paranoid about anyone being near the back of his head with something that could be considered a blunt instrument, but he'd found, after a very bad bout of 'flu, that he didn't mind if Theresa brushed his hair for him now and then

"Put my nose in the air and shame the devil? What does that mean?" he asked finally, finding the rhythm of the brush through his hair was doing a good job of calming him down.

"It means don't give a damn about what your father or anyone else thinks. You don't when you're working, why should this be different?"

"Mmmm…"

"You've invited him and it's too late to uninvited him, but it doesn't mean we can't invite other people, like Micky and Quentin, we can even invite Frankie if we want to"

"…Really?"

"This, Kevin, is not an Estate, it is my home. Gramps and I like our home to be full of people we like and who like us. You know that. Nobody said Afternoon Tea had to be an awkward meeting of people who barely tolerate each other. And," she continued softly, "Really it's win-win. If he likes us, that's cool. If he doesn't, then it's his problem and we never have to invite him ever again."

There was silence as he processed this and let her continue until she deemed that if she brushed it any longer, his hair would fall out.

"When," Kevin asked, turning to hug her, "did you become so wise?"

"Born with it," she smiled

"You're really going to invite Frankie?"

"Yes. It'd be an act of mercy on my part," she laughed "I had a text from him earlier, he's reduced to watching daytime television and thinks he's about to go barmy or, and he says this is worse-cast-scenario, he'll develop a chavvy accent, stop bathing, shave his head start drinking White Lightning, eating Pot Noodles, using words like 'sunnink' or 'innit' and wearing fake Burberry baseball caps."

"Frankie Platinum's new Chav-look" he tried and failed to imagine Frankie in a nylon shell-suit with the legs of the trousers tucked into his socks and completely and utterly failed, "sorry, I don't think it'll gain him many fans"

"And thus inviting him to tea here, at the same time as your dad is an act of mercy. Come on Kevin, think of poor Frankie. It's your good deed for the month"

"I wasn't aware I needed to do good deeds"

"Oh, yes. Good deeds really count. Particularly towards earning you kisses"

"I wasn't aware I needed to earn those either"

"Well, my darling, there are kisses and _kisses_ and when you do good deeds you get _kisses_"

"Oh well then, " he reached up and took the hairbrush from her, and turning around to face her, "bring on the good deeds."

* * *

_**Author:** I know, I'm a tease, cutting it off as we get to a good bit_

_**Theresa:** But I thank you for it. I like my private life to stay private; it's why I avoid paparazzo's_

_**Kevin:** And destroyed Jaqueline McMadd's video footage that time and managed to get her banned from setting foot in London for the next 10 years_

_**Author:** Oi! Haven't written that Short Story out yet. No spoiling it!_


End file.
